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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: XVII
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JOY`S TREACHERY
 I had a live joy once and pampered her,
 For I had brought her from the ``golden East,``
 To lie when nights were cold upon my breast
 And sit beside me the long days and purr,
 Until her whole soul should be lapped in fur,
 Deep as her claws; a beautiful sleek beast,
 Which I might love.--But, when I deemed it least,
 Her topaz eyes were on my stomacher,
 Athirst for blood. Thus, for I loathed her since
 I learned her guile, one night I had her slain
 And thrown upon a dunghill to the flies,
 Who bred in her fair limbs a pestilence,
 Whereof I sickened.--Thus it ever is:
 Dead joys unburied breed us death and pain.
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